Mark 10:45

Tag: Happiness

  • Seeing Joy

    Seeing Joy

    Saturday of the 33rd Week in Ordinary Time

    Revelation 11:4-12; Luke 20:27-40

    While I’m not a fan of most internet videos I come across, some are genuinely moving. One of my favorites is about a young man who is given a pair of glasses by his friends. They look like sunglasses, but are designed to correct colorblindness. His reaction after putting them on is priceless; seeing the depth, variation, and vibrance of the colors that have surrounded him his entire life, the man is overwhelmed and weeps for joy.

    Today’s readings teach us that what that young man’s friends did for him, God does for us. He always has the perfect prescription for our spiritual vision.

    Sometimes we lack the “depth perception.” God speaks and we see only the surface meaning; its depth eludes us. Take the Sadducees in today’s gospel, for example. They believed that what God revealed to Moses was all He had to say; since Moses said nothing about resurrection or eternal life, God said nothing about it. This is why Jesus took them back to that first encounter between God and Moses, to those words, I am the God… of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob (Exodus 3:6). By calling Him the God of the living, Jesus reveals the deeper meaning: To God and His children, there is no past, only present: I am, not I was. All are alive in Him.

    For the Sadducees, and everyone of that time, this would have been a quantum leap in understanding. Not so for us; indeed, the Communion of the Church on Heaven and Earth is a fundamental part of the faith. At every Mass, we take time to remember all three groups; we ask for healing for those on earth, mercy for those being purified, and the intercession of the saints who have entered heavenly glory.

    We may not suffer that particular depth perception problem, but we have enough of our own. For example, we all come across passages of Scripture or teachings of the Church that are hard to understand. (If that has never been true of you, then I challenge you to re-read the passage from Revelation we just heard.) The question is what we do when that happens. Do we stop asking questions, as the Sadducees and others did to Jesus?

    I propose that God wants just the opposite; He wants us to ask questions about things that challenge us, and to persevere in our search for answers. It might take a while and definitely takes patience and effort on our part, but He has guaranteed that answers will come. Christ himself said it: … everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds (Luke 11:10).

    Of course, he never guaranteed that we’ll like what we find, but that brings up another spiritual vision problem: shortsightedness. We can get so caught up in the details and problems of daily life that we lose sight of what we’re doing it all for. No wonder people despair or lose heart! But I think that’s why we have the reading from Revelation, to remind us that, although life can be full of bitter struggles and certainly ends in death, that’s not really the end: there is the glory of resurrection and the joy of eternal life. This is a lens through which God restores our ability to see the big picture; what matters to Him isn’t how we begin but how we end, and not who we conquer but who we trust in.

    The joy of the colorblind man, as he first sees the world in living color, is infectious; it’s easy to shed a tear of joy watching him. That’s because joy is infectious. And the good news is that joy is all around us, because the opportunities are all around us to see the living God as if for the first time. Where? In Scripture, for every word is a chance to see God in a new and deeper way. In daily life, for every moment, in joy or sorrow, He is there, strengthening us and reminding us of the peace and glory that awaits. In every person we meet, for each one is created in His image and is waiting to be discovered; and in every encounter with the Blessed Sacrament, for each is a chance to come closer and closer to the deep and abiding presence of God, who is Joy itself.

  • Small Matters Matter

    Small Matters Matter

    Saturday of the 31st Week in Ordinary Time

    Philippians 4:10-19; Luke 16:9-15

    Of all the people St. Paul dealt with over the years, the Christians at Philippi were among the most dear to him. As we look at the letter he wrote to them, we understand why; they took care of him, did things to let him know how much they appreciated him.

    What kind of things? First, they prayed for him. This meant so much to St. Paul that he began his letter by thanking them for it. He knew its power, and was grateful for every prayer he could get. Second, they visited him. He referred to one man by name who came to see him, Epaphroditus. Third, they sent him whatever financial gifts they could, not just once but repeatedly (4:16), in part to try and relieve his suffering in prison. In their great love for him, the Philippians probably looked at all these things as small matters, regardless how difficult. That we cannot know. What we do know is that they were trustworthy, and that made them great matters to St. Paul.

    It makes them great to God as well. We heard Jesus speak of such trustworthiness in the gospel. Twice he said it: If we can’t be trusted with very small matters, then we can’t be trusted with greater. In other words, small matters matter.

    Take prayer, for example. Saying a prayer for someone may seem like a small matter. It isn’t small to God; he is constantly exhorting us to pray. It isn’t small to the one asking for the prayers, either; to them, it’s one of the greatest things we can do. Maybe they’re having surgery, or their child is sick, or they’ve lost their job and can’t find another. Whatever the reason, taking a moment to lift them up in prayer isn’t much to ask, but its effects are life-changing.

    As you are very well aware, it’s no small matter to do what Epaphroditus did – visit someone in prison. If that’s not for you, remember that there are all kinds prisons. Think of the people in nursing homes, hospitals, or confined to their home due to illness. How much it would mean to them to see your face and receive Holy Communion! There are also people who need someone to talk to, someone who will listen, like the Philippians did when they shared in St. Paul’s distress (4:14). These kinds of outreach are a small matter in terms of time, but what greater thing is there than to bring Christ, or be Christ, to those who otherwise would go without?

    As for charity, we may not have much more money to give, but remember the dishonest steward we heard about yesterday. Jesus didn’t commend the steward because he was honest; he commended him because he was bright and used his wits to secure his future. God asks us to do the same. If charity doesn’t mean more money, then we have to use our ingenuity and find other ways to give. Consider, for example, the corporal works of mercy. We already mentioned visiting the sick and those in prison, but there is feeding the hungry; that could be anything from actually making meals to helping at a food pantry. Giving drink to the thirsty could be donating bottled water to family shelters or conserving water in our home; sheltering the homeless, anything from making warm blankets for shelters to actually opening your home to provide shelter; and burying the dead, anything from praying for those who have died to being a compassionate listener in the bereavement ministry.

    Whatever ways you find to give, remember these three things:

    1. God is asking us to put our minds to work, then find ways to put ourselves behind it;
    2. God is not asking for great things, but for little things done with great love; and
    3. Even though we already give, sometimes it seems to the breaking point, we have St. Paul’s words to the Philippians, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).

  • The Great Reversal

    The Great Reversal

    Saturday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time

    Philippians 1:18b-26; Luke 14:1, 7-11

    The famous evangelist Billy Graham dreamed that he died and went to Heaven. As he was escorted in, saints and angels cheered, congratulated him, and said to each other, “At last! Here he is! Here he is!” When our Lord greeted him, He said, “Yes, here he is, the man we have all been waiting for: Ruth Graham’s husband!”

    Beyond the humor, Graham was touching on a theme that runs throughout the gospel of Luke. Theologians call it, “the Great Reversal.” We hear it in verses like, He has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty-handed (Luke 1:53); Blessed are you who are poor… woe to you who are rich (Luke 6:20,24); (Lazarus) is comforted here, whereas you are tormented (Luke 16:25); and today’s: everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted (Luke 14:11).

    If this sounds less like reversal and more like divine justice, it’s for good reason. There is an element of justice to it. In his merciful love, God gives abundantly to those who have been denied, and will deny those who, of their own free will, have refused to show that same kind of love and mercy to others.

    But there is more to it. The Great Reversal isn’t a reversal of fortunes, it’s a reversal of expectations. In his dream, Billy Graham ended up in heaven, just not for the reason he expected. Like him, we are tempted to look at “everything we’ve done for God” and, perhaps even unconsciously, expect something in return. Of course, the fact is that God owes us nothing, whereas we owe Him a debt we can never repay. The lesson is that, if we have any real expectation or hope at all, it should be the one St. Paul spoke of: thatChrist will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me life is Christ, and death is gain (Philippians 1:20).

    We can’t get to that point without being like Christ, we can’t be like Christ without humility, and we don’t have humility until we take an honest look at the gifts we’ve been given, remember who gave them to us, and ask ourselves what we’re doing with them. What gifts? Well, think about riches. If we’re not rich in money, then what about time, talent, or knowledge? Whatever it is, Jesus wants us to ask ourselves, “Do I thank God for it?” and “What would the world look like if I gave some of it away?” Again, think of St. Paul. Rich in love for Christ, he wanted only to be with him; as we heard, he was ready to die to do it. Nevertheless, he saw the need to serve the Church, to preach the gospel and encourage her members in the faith. In his humility, he let his guiding concern be not how he could satisfy himself, but how he could be of benefit to others.

    Humility is a demanding gift, but a great one for that reason. It’s asking a lot to be given the riches of life but not become attached to them, to take pride in ourselves and our abilities without becoming proud, and to give all we can purely out of love for God, expecting nothing in return. But as we try more and more, we see more and more the reversal taking place in ourselves; that true poverty is having gifts but not sharing them, true torment is refusing the consolation of Truth, and that true pride is expecting God to honor us for whatever we’ve done.

    The irony is that God does honor us; indeed, He is never outdone in generosity. We are invited guests to the greatest wedding banquet ever prepared – the feast of Christ’s Body and Blood. All we need bring with us is the hope and eager expectation of hearing him say to us when we come to his table, ‘My friend, move up to a higher position’ (Luke 14:10).

  • God Moments

    God Moments

    Memorial of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

    Job 42:1-3, 5-6, 12-17; Luke 10:17-24

    The leader of a small group I once belonged to began each meeting by asking us, “Did you have any ‘God moments’ this week? What did you learn? How did they help you?” I never responded, although his questions did get me to reflect on times when I saw or felt God working in my life.

    If Job or the Apostles attended that small group this week, they would’ve had a lot to say. Job had just encountered God in a very profound way, and the Apostles actually witnessed God healing people through them. But today, on the Feast of St. Thérèse, let us share one of her ‘God moments.’ It was this moment that she said changed her life.

    She was 12, going on 13, when she overheard an innocent but dismissive remark made about her by her tired and irritated father. Although it hurt at first, it caused Thérèse to look at herself and see that for years she had behaved like a spoiled, self-centered child. At the same time, she realized that her father, in imitation of the infinite love of God, had always looked beyond that; to him, she was a beautiful person capable of deep and authentic love.

    This God moment, which Thérèse called “grace emerging from childhood,” was not far from the experience of Job and the Apostles in the readings. In fact, I think all ‘God moments’ share these three aspects: A call by God, a response of repentance and amendment, and the blessings of growth in holiness.

    First, the call. To Job, it might have sounded more like a “wake-up” call. Just moments earlier, God had sternly reminded him who is God and who is not. In the gospel, it was the gentle rebuke of Jesus, reminding the Apostles not to rejoice that evil was conquered, but that their names were written in heaven. For Thérèse, it was her father’s remark, hinting at her self-centeredness. For us, it could be many things: a Scripture verse; a thought from a book we’re reading or talk we heard; something said to us by a friend or relative; a whisper of the Holy Spirit.

    Whatever it is, the call awakens us to the fact that we need to make a change and stick to it. This takes plenty of humility and perseverance. Job had it; he disowned what he said and repented in dust and ashes (Job 42:6). The Apostles had it, too; after receiving the Holy Spirit, they rejoiced that they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name (Acts 5:41). So did Thérèse; she faced the fact that her father was right, and changed her behavior. That leaves us with the challenge: What is God calling us to own up to and commit to change, and will we do it?

    We all know how hard that is, but the readings show us that good things await those who try. After his repentance, Job was blessed far more than before (Job 42:12); long after the Apostles fled from the Passion, God poured out the Spirit upon them and set them over the whole Church (Matthew 19:28; Acts 4:34-35; 16:4). Thérèse also bears witness; she left her life as a spoiled brat to became one of the greatest saints in recent memory.

    Now we can see how God moments help us. Through them, we come face to face with the deepest parts of ourselves; not just our limitations but also our potential. They are opportunities for conversion, a chance to return, to begin again, to grow more deeply in virtue. They are reminders not just that God is present and acting in the world, but that He acts in us and through us; we are a part of His plan. What an awesome thought, that there are things only we can do, and that God has given us the grace we need to do them! Above all, they are signs of God’s infinite and merciful love for us. As St. Thérèse showed so well, God measures us not by the greatness of our deeds, but by the love with which we do them.

    St. Thérèse, pray for us.

  • Dirt and the Story of Us

    Dirt and the Story of Us

    Saturday of the 24th Week in Ordinary Time

    Luke 8:4-15

    Today, we hear our Lord preach what most people call the parable of the sower, or the sower and the seed. But as you heard, it really isn’t about the sower or the seed; it’s about the dirt. And not just the dirt – it’s about how people are like the dirt. Although it doesn’t sound very appealing, his explanation reveals it as a novel and practical way to help us see not only who we are, but who we are meant to be.

    He begins with the soil on the path. Compacted and difficult to break through, this soil represents the hardened heart of those who refuse to hear the word. This might put us in mind of the scribes and Pharisees, but Jesus is speaking to us, too. Our hearts harden every time we refuse his call in any way, whether it is to forgive, to accept those who disagree with us, or to speak out in the face of evil.

    Then there is the rocky soil – those who believe until faith gets difficult. Again, we may think of the crowds who welcomed Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, or the Apostles during his passion, but what about us? It’s one thing to have faith when times are easy and God feels close, but what happens when times are hard and God feels far away? How easy it is to turn inward and lose heart!

    From there, Jesus speaks of the thorny soil, which represents those who follow for a while, but eventually allow worldly concerns to dominate. This is like the rich man who wanted to follow Jesus, but couldn’t find it in himself to give his money away. But is it also like us? Jesus is asking us to search our hearts, to see if there is something we’re holding onto at all costs, be it a “pet sin,” a worldly concern, or some pleasure that preoccupies us to the point of becoming an idol.

    As we contemplate these categories and evaluate ourselves in light of them, we can see that, although none of them fits us perfectly over the course of our life, some combination probably fits us a little too well over time. In his infinite love and mercy, our Lord never leaves us without hope or encouragement. He uses only one sentence – actually, one part of a sentence – to go beyond the failures and show us success.

    Where the soil on the path is the hardened heart who heard and refused, the rich soil is the heart that has heard the word and embraced it. This is the heart open to forgive, ready to welcome, and daring to speak when silence means sin. Where the rocky soil is the heart turned in on itself, the rich soil is the heart turned outward in goodness and generosity. Where the thorny soil is the heart that abandons Christ, the rich soil is the heart that bears fruit through perseverance (Luke 8:15).

    His final word, perseverance, reminds us that those in the rich soil are like everyone else; they aren’t spared any of the ups and downs of life. What differs is their attitude. Like those on the path, on the rocks, or among thorns, they too know suffering; unlike them, they see it not just as a mystery but as a part of God’s plan that will ultimately bring good. They too know trials and challenges, but not as things simply to be endured; for them, they are opportunities to grow in virtue. Where would prudence be without the ambiguities of life, fortitude without its fears, patience without its irritations, or justice without its unfairness? Perseverance, a gift of the Holy Spirit, is the bridge that brings us from who we are to who we are meant to be.

    Who could look at dirt and see and see the story of us? Only the One who could look at the dust of the earth, breathe His own life and image into it, and then write the story of us. Praised be Jesus Christ, true God and true man.

  • Illness and Recovery

    Illness and Recovery

    Memorial of St. Bernard, Abbot and Doctor of the Church

    Ezekiel 43:1-7AB; Matthew 23:1-12

    As we just heard, Jesus got pretty tough on the scribes and Pharisees. In fact, he’s only getting started; next week we’ll hear him get even tougher. It’s easy to chalk it up to Matthew’s dislike of these men and the history behind that, but I think the Holy Spirit has a better reason for preserving these words in Sacred Scripture, one that has as much to do with us as it did with them. Jesus has put his finger on a problem that has plagued the human spirit from the beginning – hypocrisy – but has also given us a way out of it.

    He begins by recognizing the important place of the scribes and Pharisees as teachers, and has no intention of taking this away from them or dishonoring the role of teacher. Nevertheless, he rightly reminds the people that teaching is as much about actions as it is words – perhaps more. Here, the scribes and Pharisees have a lot to answer for. Recall a few of their worst moments from Matthew’s gospel: Denouncing Jesus for wanting to heal a crippled man on the Sabbath, in a synagogue of all places (12:9); exalting their own traditions over those of God (15:1-14); and accusing Jesus of healing by the power of the Enemy (12:22-37). Our Lord sums up his reaction by quoting the prophet Isaiah: This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me (15:8).

    Sadly, these words echo across the centuries. Hypocrisy is still the “go-to” accusation leveled against the Church from all sides. Always, always, the world watches Christians; it evaluates us in light of what our faith teaches, and, almost always, condemns us as hypocrites. Yes, non-believers are hypocrites, too, and yes, they can be harsh and unfair, but we must ask ourselves: Is what they’re saying true? What kind of world would it be if we were to more truly practice what we preach? Perhaps the late Brennan Manning was right when he said, “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.”1

    So, while the Divine Physician has diagnosed the disease, he also prescribed the antidote – humility – when he said, whoever humbles himself will be exalted (Matthew 23:12). By happy coincidence, we remember today the mellifluent doctor of the Church, St. Bernard of Clairvaux who, when asked to name the three most important aspects of the spiritual life, replied, “Humility, humility, and humility.” He might well have said it 9 more times, for he gives 12 steps to deeper humility in his book, Steps of Humility and Pride.

    The twelfth step is called, “an attitude of pious prostration.” It is directly opposed to hypocrisy, or what St. Bernard calls “an attitude of vain curiosity.” Tempted by the pride of vanity and fear of showing others who we really are, we seek to conform ourselves to the world; to please ourselves and others, rather than God. But hypocrisy leads us only to unhappiness, for it’s pretentious and inauthentic, a lie to ourselves about ourselves. Happiness, on the other hand, is found only through humility. It is “pious” to the degree that we reverence God as our Creator, and “prostration” in the sense that we, like Ezekiel in the first reading, bow in body and spirit before His infinite glory. This level of humility is submission in two ways: First, to the truth that we, though sinners, are infinitely loved by God, not for what we can achieve, but for who we are; and second, to the grace of God that has the power to conform us more and more to His own image, if we will allow it.

    St. Bernard knew all this from experience. When he entered religious life, Bernard was determined to withdraw in silence from the world and from education. However, by allowing God to form him in the humility he would come to so beautifully teach, Bernard became the most widespread, eloquent, and influential preacher and teacher of his time. What a world it would be if we, like St. Bernard, professed Jesus with our lips, then walked out the door and proclaimed him by our lifestyle.

    St. Bernard, pray for us.

    1https://relevantmagazine.com/faith/ragamuffin-legacy/

  • It is Good to Be Here

    It is Good to Be Here

    The Feast of the Transfiguration

    Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Luke 9:28b-36

    Of the three evangelists who write of it, Luke’s account of the Transfiguration stands out in at least two ways: Prayer and the true meaning of glory.

    First, Luke sets the scene with prayer. This isn’t surprising; prayer pervades his gospel. Only Luke shows Jesus praying at crucial moments – His baptism (3:21), choosing the Twelve (6:12), Peter’s confession of faith (9:18), the Transfiguration (9:28), before teaching the Apostles to pray (11:1), and his Crucifixion (23:34, 46). But it isn’t just the frequency of his prayer, it’s the power; as we heard today, it was transfiguring! This is a lesson for us. While we don’t expect prayer to transfigure us, we should expect it to transform us; indeed, the whole point of prayer is that our will, slowly but surely, be conformed to the will of God. To paraphrase St. Josemaria Escriva, the best prayer begins with, “If it pleases you, Lord…” and ends with, “… Thy Will be done.”

    Luke is also the only evangelist to tell us not only of the appearance of Moses and Elijah but of their conversation with Christ and, not coincidentally, that the Apostles missed the whole conversation; they had been overcome by sleep (9:32). I wish I could say that I’d never do that, but I can’t. Far too many times, I too have been “overcome by sleep” while praying. Herein lies another lesson for us. If we find ourselves often falling asleep during prayer, we should consider changing our routine; perhaps by praying earlier in the day or making sure we are getting enough rest. As Luke is going out of his way to show us, prayer was important to Jesus; as his disciples, it is for us, too. Far better to structure our day around prayer than to allow our day to dictate our prayer time.

    But Luke’s point goes even deeper. By missing the conversation, the Apostles missed a fuller understanding of what the glory of Christ meant. While a bright, fiery image of heavenly glory pervades the first reading, there is a darker side to the glory of Christ. It was foreshadowed way back at the Presentation, when Simeon spoke of Jesus, the “glory of Israel,” as a sign that will be contradicted (2:32,34). Now on the mountain, Moses and Elijah spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem (9:31). And we know that Luke had an eye on the passion, death, and resurrection, for only he tells of Jesus on the road to Emmaus, saying: Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory (24:26)? John would confirm this throughout his own gospel account, where at the start of his passion Jesus said, Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him (John 13:31).

    With that in mind, let us reconsider Peter saying, Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents… (Luke 9:33). The Transfiguration was a glorious “mountaintop moment” – something to capture and keep forever. God had spoken directly to them! Who wouldn’t want to hold onto that? We can relate; we all have mountaintop moments, times when God feels so close and it seems like He is speaking right to us. We want that wonderful feeling to never go away. However, we know that sooner or later, we will come down from the mountain, perhaps even into the valley. This fills us with dread, for it feels like a darkness where God is silent, far away, and all that glory a dim and distant memory.

    Luke’s story of the Transfiguration teaches us that the glory of God cannot be reduced to such images. Our Lord Jesus Christ was every bit as eloquent and glorious on the Cross as he was at the Transfiguration, and his glory is as bound to us in our most intimate suffering as it is in our most contented joy. In that light, mountaintop moments and times of spiritual dryness are not feast and famine, but opportunities to grow closer to God; to revel in his wonder or to persevere in hope. In each one, God is challenging us to grow stronger, to love more deeply, and most of all to be spiritually alive and awake in the present moment, for that is where we live, where God meets us, walks with us, and feeds us with His grace.

    Truly, it is good to be here.

  • Servant and Seed

    Servant and Seed

    Saturday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

    Jeremiah 7:1-11; Matthew 13:24-30

    The parable of the wheat and the weeds may leave us wondering. It certainly baffled the disciples. Next Tuesday we will hear them ask Jesus to explain it and, although he does, he leaves off two things: First, if wheat is always wheat and weeds are always weeds, is repentance even possible? Second, who do the slaves represent? Jesus identifies every other character, but never mentions the slaves. The parable has the answers but we must look more deeply into it to find them, which of course is why Christ told it to begin with.

    As for the wheat and weeds remaining the same, on the surface the parable does say that. But if that was our Lord’s point, it would contradict the first thing he said when he began his ministry: Repent (Matthew 4:17) and if Jesus is anything, he’s consistent. No; repentance isn’t only possible, it is central to the parable. The question is, who repents, and how?

    Enter the servants. Noticing the weeds, they offer to pull them, which seems like a good idea. But the master knows what the servants do not. For one thing, the weed, called darnel, looks a lot like wheat; even today it’s called wheat’s ‘evil twin.’ For another, the weed’s roots intertwine with wheat’s. Thus, by pulling the weeds in their ignorance and haste, the servants would actually cause what they most want to prevent. This is why the master advises the servants to let them grow together (Matthew 13:30).

    We see two things in this. First, it shows God’s love for his children, who he wants to live at all costs. Second, and equally important, it shows his love for his servants, who need to repent, or change their minds, from ignorance to knowledge and impetuousness to patience.

    Being patient doesn’t mean doing nothing; to the contrary, it sharpens their focus. The servants have one job – produce a fruitful harvest – not to judge what is wheat or weed. That will be done by others when God wills and at his direction alone.

    This is where we must take the parable to heart, for Christ is speaking to us. We are the servants. We look at the field – the Church, the world, and ourselves – and see the same thing they saw: wheat and weeds. Perhaps our reaction is like theirs; purge the evil quickly, that the good may thrive. But also like them, we may be ignorant and impetuous. Ask yourself: Have I ever been mistaken in my first impressions of people? Have I ever changed my opinion once I got to know them? Have I ever wanted others to be patient with me, despite the wrong things I have done or said?

    Even if we have made these kinds of mistakes, does that mean that we are never to judge our own actions or those of others and try to correct them? Certainly not; to be silent or impassive in the face of evil is exactly the kind of complacency our Lord condemns in the first reading. Earlier in this same gospel, Jesus urged us to be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). But that is a perfection in love; therefore, our judgment and proclamation of the truth must be tempered by the same kind of mercy, compassion, and patience that God exalted in the first reading through the prophet Jeremiah, and that Christ himself has so perfectly shown us.

    This is why repentance is central to the parable. The effort we make to do these things, to be perfected in love, is the repentance, the change of mind, that our Master is calling for. It isn’t that we are either servants asked to produce a fruitful harvest or the wheat or weeds growing in the field. The parable teaches us that we are both servant and seed. For both, the watchwords are faithfulness, patience and perseverance; faith that God is working through us even when we cannot see it, patience with our own growth and that of others, and perseverance, that we may overcome every obstacle to become the good seed that makes the finest wheat, in the image of Christ, the Bread of Life.

  • Encountering God

    Encountering God

    Saturday of the 14th Week in Ordinary Time

    Isaiah 6:1-8; 1 Peter 4:14; Matthew 10:24-33

    My family and I had the good fortune of going on a pilgrimage to Italy. The churches we visited were, to say the least, breathtaking; each in its own way a masterpiece of art and architecture. It was easy to be overwhelmed by the splendor of it all.

    While exploring one of them, I happened to look toward the main altar. A small group of people were gathered in a roped-off space. I assumed it was a tour group waiting for a talk to begin. When I looked back later, I saw that in fact it was people attending Mass. I suddenly realized that, wandering through that majestic space, I got lost in the outward beauty but forgot the deeper one. I was encountering art; they were encountering God.

    As the first reading reminded us, the prophet Isaiah also encountered God, and its effect resounds to this day. Who can hear Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts! All the earth is filled with his glory! and not think of the holy Mass? For the Mass, indeed every sacrament, is an encounter with the living God. Pope Francis made this clear when he wrote that Christ, the Incarnation, is Himself the “very method that the Holy Trinity has chosen to open to us the way of communion. Christian faith is either an encounter with Him alive, or it does not exist… We need to be present at that Supper, to be able to hear his voice, to eat his Body and to drink his Blood. We need Him. In the Eucharist and in all the sacraments we are guaranteed the possibility of encountering the Lord Jesus and of having the power of his Paschal Mystery reach us. The salvific power of the sacrifice of Jesus, his every word, his every gesture, glance, and feeling reaches us through the celebration of the sacraments.”1

    We heard in the Old Testament readings this week forebodings of this encounter. On the one hand, God said to Israel through Hosea, I will allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart (2:16); it is time to seek the LORD (10:12); I drew them with human cords, with bands of love; I fostered them like one who raises an infant to his cheeks (11:4); and finally, Return, Israel, to the LORD, your God… Take with you words, and return to the LORD (14:2-3). But on the other hand, we also heard Him say that Israel made idols for themselves (8:4); their heart is false (10:2); and the more I called them, the farther they went from me (11:2).

    The pattern is clear: God seeks encounter, to share his love; we, to avoid. Why? Fear, mostly. It’s in our nature. God calls us to be holy – set apart – but we fear not fitting in. He calls us to speak truth in the open, but we are silent, fearing the challenge. He calls us to give ourselves completely to him, but we fear the loss of control. He calls us to the humility of service, but we fear giving up our pride. And where does this fear leave us?Empty, ashamed, hiding in the darkness of our sins, and afraid to open ourselves up to the all-seeing light of Christ.

    But his light is also the perfect love that drives out fear (1 John 4:18). That is why Jesus urges his disciples to become like their Master, that His love will transform us. Our encounter with the living God in every sacrament is meant to bear witness to the transformative power of His love. Why else would Jesus say, What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops (Matthew 10:27)? Aren’t the most loving words the ones so often spoken in the darkness, or whispered in our ears? The perfect love that drives out fear is the heart of our encounter with God in the liturgy, the love that is meant to evoke in us the same sense of humble self-surrender that Isaiah felt when he cried out, I am a man of unclean lips (Isaiah 6:5).

    It was the loving and living word of God that cleansed him, the same one who comes to us and seeks to perfect in us the effect of that encounter: the Spirit of God who rests upon us (1 Peter 4:14), who moves us to speak in the light, to proclaim what God has whispered, and to say as Isaiah said, Here I am, send me!

    1https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/apost_letters/documents/20220629-lettera-ap-desiderio-desideravi.html

  • The Heart to Have

    The Heart to Have

    Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary

    Isaiah 61:9-11; 1 Samuel 2:1; Luke 2:41-51

    When we speak of someone in terms of their heart, we mean more than just describing what they’re like. We want to understand what it is that makes them who they are; their essence, if you will. That’s hard to do with anyone, let alone a person who walked among us so long ago, let alone a woman so devoted to remaining in the background and exalting her son and Lord, Jesus Christ. Yet that is exactly what we want to do on this, the Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

    The gospels give us only a glimpse into Mary’s heart. The best comes from Luke, who actually mentions her heart two times. The first came the evening of our Lord’s birth; he notes that Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart (2:19). Today we hear the second; Luke tells us that, while returning to Nazareth after finding Jesus in the Temple, his mother kept all these things in her heart (2:51).

    If the words “kept” and “reflect” meant to Luke what they mean to us, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to say this. Most parents have memories of their children and events in their lives. Rather, in the original language, his words imply that in her heart, Mary is doing much more; she is actively pondering the events, searching out their meaning, struggling to interpret them. Of course, the mysteries she struggled with are supernatural; no one but God can understand them. But that isn’t the point; the point is that in her heart Mary possessed the humility, docility, and wisdom to surrender herself to them, and allow their meaning to work itself out over time in her own discipleship.

    That is what happened. As time passed, the fruit of Mary’s contemplation showed itself in her words and her actions. For example, at the wedding feast of Cana she offered that resolutely faithful advice: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5). In the same gospel, she displayed the strength that many disciples lacked: Standing by the cross of Jesus (John 19:25). Finally, while awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit, she was one in prayer with those to whom Christ made her mother (John 19:26; Acts 1:14). Open to discipleship from the very beginning, Mary made clear to everyone what her son said in his ministry: that hearing the word is only the first step; what is required is to embrace it with a generous and good heart, and bear fruit through perseverance (Luke 8:15).

    On a spiritual level, we may not think about the Blessed Mother as someone in need of growth. What could she who has already been perfected in grace need to learn? Didn’t she have all the faith she would ever need? Certainly, but as the Catechism reminds us, the relationship between faith and understanding is not a straight line but a circle; the stronger our faith, the greater our desire to know God and understand what He has revealed. In turn, the better we understand, the deeper our faith, which “‘opens the eyes of our hearts’ to a lively understanding of Revelation” (CCC §158). Again, Mary is a perfect model of this; whose faith was greater than hers, yet who demonstrated more than she a desire to know God and better understand what He has revealed? Or, rather, who He has revealed – for there is no greater revelation of God than His only Son, Jesus, and who understands a son better than his mother?

    This is the heart of Mary Immaculate, the heart she encourages us to have; not one who hears the word of God and understands it, but who hears the word of God and does it – surrendering to it, and allowing it to work through us for the good of ourselves and the world. Our Blessed Mother wasn’t spared from difficulties and suffering; we should expect no less. But, if we persevere, we should also expect no less than the same glorious triumph she now enjoys. Mary is the ultimate example of what all faithful hearts can expect. So, here and now, let us recommit ourselves to taking her advice by doing whatever He says, enduring whatever crosses we are given, and praying and working for unity with each other. This is the heart that, like Mary Immaculate, always and everywhere exults in the Lord, our Savior.